I would like to point out that this was first published by my good friends at New Gamer Nation. Please check them out.

I was about three when my family got our first Nintendo console. It was mostly for my older brother, who, unlike me, actually had the motor skills to operate a controller. However, though my mother may be loath to admit it, I think my parents also wanted it a good bit. My mother was something of an Atari whiz at the time, having blacked out at least three games, Missile Command being her proudest. My father would play, too, but was apparently lacking in any notable skill.

By the time 1990 rolled around, I was a ruddy faced five-year-old with enough command of my appendages to make an attempt at playing. As most people of that era, Super Mario Bros. was my first foray into the video game world. Though the controller was as uncomfortable as anything, leaving deep, red ruts in my palms, I found that I was entirely unable to put it down. I was intent upon finding the princess and destroying as many turtles as humanly possible.

My brother would play with me quite often, most times forcing me to play as the lesser plumber/savior, Luigi. It was always a good time, but would usually end with my brother throwing the controller and kicking me out. I, however, never once took my frustrations out on the controller, as tempted as I was. Of course, this was just a litmus test of our disparate personalities. My brother had, and still has, a terrible temper, while I was and am much more laid back, even verging on timid. For my brother, it was always the game’s fault that he lost, never a shortcoming in his skills. I could recognize my faults and attempt to correct them, learning the subtle nuances of each game. I was to find out shortly that Mario has a lot of nuances.

I would come home from daycare, or, as time passed, school, and immediately blow out the cartridge and pop it in. After an hour or so, the honey yellow hue of a hot Alabama afternoon would spill through the open window, tempting me, usually successfully, to put down the controller and wander around until the crickets told me it was time to scurry back home. After the cursory supper (try as I might, the only food I ever remember having for supper is my mother’s fried chicken; I know this to be untrue.) and a begrudging trip to the bathtub, I would beg my mother for one more jaunt through the Mushroom Kingdom. Occasionally, this request would be granted, and I would delve back in with a renewed fervor. The heavy, comforting humidity of a summer’s night would combine with the sweet exhaustion that we can only know as children, putting me into some strange middle-ground between consciousness and sleep, making the game seem almost easy. I would plow through the stages, almost lazily killing Mario’s enemies. Oddly enough, I still find that to this day, I play video games better in that golden haze of sleepiness. Eventually, however, the strums of sleep would begin to play for me, and my eyelids would slowly droop further and further, eventually closing altogether. I would wake after a few seconds, only to find that my game was over. I would take this as my cue to go to bed.

With this routine, I eventually became a professional at mushroom hunting, shell dodging, and coin collecting. I would constantly tug at my father’s arm, pulling him to my brother’s room to watch me destroy a boss. Often, he would come willingly; other times, he would have to go to work, or he was going out for the evening. I would only understand later what that meant, and why my mother would get so upset at him, but things like that did not really impact upon my young mind. All that mattered to me at the time was the desire to show off my meager talent. However, as time went on, my father was around less and less. He was going out almost every night, and when he was home, usually once a week, it was usually just to get into a fight with my mother. I would later learn that my father was an alcoholic. He was unable to keep a job for any substantial length of time due to this fact, and when he lost a job, he would drink more. It was a vicious cycle, one that I’m unsure as to whether he was ever able to break or not. What I really noticed was that he was not the father I’d come to expect. He wasn’t as happy-go-lucky as he’d always been. He just seemed unhappy, and no matter what I did, it didn’t change him.

To avoid this, I sunk myself further into Mario, truly becoming a hero in my own mind. Mario was no longer fighting to save someone he loved; I was. I couldn’t change what was happening in my real life, but I could traverse strange lands and fight odd monsters to save a princess I’d never met in my life. And despite what was going on in my life, those are some of the most meaningful video game memories that I have. I have struggled to capture this feeling again, and have never quite succeeded. I had intertwined myself so fully with the hero of the game that I could hardly separate one from the other. It was a one-time product of outside influences: my father, my age, my cares (or lack thereof). It’s something that’s lost to me now, but I have memories that will always be sweet to me.

I no longer asked my father to watch me play. When he was around, I tended to avoid him. I would go outside to the playhouse that he built for me and my brother and read comic books, or real books, or play with my toys, or listen to music, or just sit and think. I would do anything but be around him. I just wanted my old father back. Whoever this man claimed to be, and regardless of what his name was, I knew that he was not my father. It became my goal to find him. He had become the princess that was always in another castle.

I developed a plan that could only be born in the imaginative and infinitely naïve mind of a child: I would beat Super Mario Bros., a feat that would make him so proud that he would have to come back. I became utterly single-minded. The call of the Alabama wilderness no longer held any sway; I would sit in front of the Nintendo until my mother pulled me away. I eventually realized that my father hadn’t even been in the house for well over month, but this didn’t deter me. I knew that once I beat Bowser, I would not only rescue the princess, but also my father.

One beautifully crisp Autumn afternoon (a Saturday, if I remember correctly), I finally did it; I beat Super Mario Bros.. I rushed out of the room, wanting to pull my father into the room to see what I’d done, to be proud of me, to come back to me. I started toward the kitchen, but knew he wasn’t there; I dashed outside to see if his truck was there, but it wasn’t. I was going to call him, but I realized that I didn’t even know where he was. I didn’t know what to do. I’d done what I thought would make him proud and bring my true father back, but how could I even tell him what I’d done? Maybe if I told my mother, she’d somehow be able to reach him.

I wandered into my mother’s room. She was sitting on her bed, folding laundry. I went in and put on my best broken smile, and said, “Hey Mama, guess what? I beat Super-“; but I couldn’t do it. My voice cracked and hot tears forced their way past my clenched eyelids. I stammered and tried to get it out, but I just couldn’t finish. My mother came up to me and gently put her arms around me. She knew what had happened, and she knew it wasn’t Mario that I was crying about. She kissed me lightly on the forehead and said, “You beat Mario? I knew you could do it, honey.” I hugged her back and cried harder. She crouched and lifted my head up. She wiped my eyes and said, “Harry, I love you, and I know you miss your dad, but we’re going to be okay.” I sniffled and quit crying. I went back to my brother’s room, shut the Nintendo off, and went out to my playhouse, the one that my father had built. I just wanted to be alone for a little bit. While sitting there, I realized that the princess isn’t in any other castle. I had found her, but I hadn’t found my father. But I also realized something else. It didn’t really matter. My mother had always been there for me, for good times and bad. I’d miss my father until he came back, but my mother had never left to begin with. She was the one that I really wanted to make proud. And she still is to this day.

I haven’t seen my father in 20 years. He wrote me a letter when I turned 18, and the return address was somewhere in Tennessee, but I threw it away without reading it. I didn’t need to. I don’t want his apologies; I don’t want his reasons. I have my mother, and she’s never in another castle.

It has recently been revealed that David Hayter, the voice of Solid Snake in every English language Metal Gear Solid game, will not be returning to the series in Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain. In a recent interview with GameTrailers, Hideo Kojima said that, “It’s a new type of Metal Gear game and we wanted to have this reflected in the voice actor as well.” Of course, the main character is Big Boss this time around, not Solid Snake, making a strong argument for a change of actors; however, Hayter also voiced a young Big Boss before, showing that he’s more than capable of handling the character. While I’m not jumping to sign any petitions, I feel that this is a huge loss for the series that won’t be fully felt until MGSV is released. While it seems like there’s a bit of overreaction on a lot of peoples’ parts, I would argue that quite a bit of the controversy is well-founded.

For all intents and purposes, David Hayter IS Snake, whether Solid or Naked. He put over a decade of work into developing this character, learning how Snake would respond, and putting an incredible amount of emotion into a character that could have just turned into John Rambo. While I’m willing to put money on the wonderful Richard Doyle, the voice of Big Boss in MGS4, taking the reins, things just won’t be the same without Hayter. His gruff, up to three packs a day voice has always represented the series to the fullest. His voice is instantly recognizable and screams, “Soldier who has seen and done far more than he should ever have to, but will continually push and get the job done.” Kojima can cast whomever he would like, but the problem that I have is that it just doesn’t make much sense to change. If Hayter was demanding an exorbitant amount of money or going on horrible, Christian Bale-esque tirades, it would be perfectly understandable, but there is no indication that this is the case. Kojima has his reasons, I’m sure, but I wish he’d just share them, rather than just say “new direction,” and be done with it. At face value, taking an actor who has built a long-term relationship with a character and changing him out with a new actor seems like an awful idea.

And there’s no better way to prove a point than with an analogy! Let’s talk about a television show that it seems like everyone loves: Breaking Bad. With the last half of the final season soon to air, everyone’s ready to see how Walter White’s story ends. Now, imagine that you tune in and Walter White is no longer played by Bryan Cranston. Let’s say he’s portrayed by Denzel Washington. While everyone can agree that Mr. Washington is a wonderful actor, he has not put as much time and love into the character as Cranston, and would just not be able to pull it off as well. Everyone would be horrendously disappointed, to say the least. This situation is not that different. Throughout the various Snakes, Hayter has been a constant, fine-tuning his character work and building personalities. With him being snatched out of the series, someone else, who I’m sure will be of top quality, will have to begin from scratch building a relationship with the character. That doesn’t mean it’ll be awful, but the little nuances of character that Hayter can pull off without thinking will not be present in The Phantom Pain.

In the end, what’s going to change, other than just a voice, is the soul of the series. Hayter will be conspicuously absent, a void that will be blatantly obvious to people who have followed the franchise. How this will affect the game remains to be seen, but there’s going to be a subtle change that no one will be able to deny. With all that said, I will still buy this game the second it’s released. Despite this change, Metal Gear has always come as close as possible to gaming perfection; however, this one is going to be a little bittersweet, with the loss of possibly the most memorable voice in video gaming. Good luck, Mr. Hayter; you will be missed. May a flight of angels sing thee to thy rest. ( A little histrionics are always welcome in a Metal Gear Solid discussion.)

Originally posted on New Gamer Nation. Check out the original by hitting the link.

I have two passions in life: videogames and fine literature. For years now, I’ve waited for a good meeting point for these two art forms, with no luck. To me, it seems like classic literature is a ripe crop ready for the videogame developers to come a-picking. There are some of the greatest stories that have ever been conceived of, already fully fleshed-out and ready to be digitized. Of course, not every novel would translate well. My favorite work of literature, Vladimir Nabokov’s still controversial Lolita, would be the most disturbing videogame this world has ever seen. But there are many that would work perfectly and even fit it with some of the styles that are used today. There have been a few attempts, but no true successes. The highest profile game based on a work of classic literature has been Visceral Games’ 2010 game Dante’s Inferno.

Dante’s Inferno is based on, obviously, 14th Century poet Dante Alighieri’s epic poem The Divine Comedy. The Divine Comedy is a work that has many levels: that of a political satire; that of a theological allegory; that of a man’s deep and unerring love for a woman he can no longer have. It is a masterfully crafted story, full of subtlety and imagination, and, as such, is one of the most highly regarded works of literature of all time. Dante’s Inferno took a decidedly different path on the story. Dante is a general in the Crusades, as opposed to a poet. He is raging against the demons of the Inferno, rather than being led through as a passive observer, searching for a way through life, as he is in the poem.

The largest departure, however, is the character of Beatrice. In reality, Beatrice was Dante Alighieri’s muse, a woman (technically, girl) that he worshipped from afar, although they only met her twice during the course of his life. In The Divine Comedy, Beatrice is Dante’s salvation; she initiated Dante’s trip through the three realms of the afterlife, and ultimately is his guide through the realm of Paradise, where Dante realizes what his life means. However, in the videogame, Beatrice is the standard “damsel in distress” figure; Dante, who was in a relationship with Beatrice when she was taken by demons, tears through the Inferno to save her from Lucifer. This, in my eyes, is the major issue. I understand that certain liberties must be taken to make a decent game; I can see that a wisp of a poet does not make for a good lead videogame character, at least by today’s standards. But the issue of Beatrice is a complete subversion of the source material; it carries a completely different message than the original story. And that’s why I feel that it fails as a good interpretation of classic literature.

There are few other attempts worth talking about. American McGee’s Alice is a pretty interesting take on Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, but it changes the story and meaning of the book to such an extent as to make it almost unrecognizable. However, a majority of videogames that are based on books are, in reality, based on movies, such asThe Lord of the Rings games and Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. While a few of the LotRgames are pretty solid, they draw most of their inspiration from the movies, which have already taken liberties with the novels. However, there were some made in the mid-80s and the early 90s which were based on the books. I have yet to play these, so I’d love to hear from someone who has. Other than that, classic literature seems to have a negligible part to play in the videogame medium, other than working as an artistic inspiration.

However, I believe that there are a multitude of works that could make wonderful games, with minimal tweaks. Here are just a few examples.

The Odyssey- This would lend itself to a God of War style game. It already has the levels and bosses laid out: the Cyclops, Circe, and the Lotus-Eaters. This one is pretty obvious.

1984- A book about a dystopian future where everything and everybody is tightly controlled, both in mind and body. With just a few tweaks, this could fit right in with all the other dystopian games we have.

All Quiet on the Western Front- This would make a wonderful first-person shooter, similar to Call of Duty. It would concentrate much more heavily on the impact that war has on the soldiers, and how it changes a person. It also has potential for a wonderfulRed Dead Redemption style ending.

The Count of Monte Cristo- A classic tale of revenge, this could easily be adapted to an extremely interesting RPG or adventure game with the potential of having one of the best main characters ever.

And there are many more where these came from: The Iliad, Heart of Darkness, The Three Musketeers, Gulliver’s Travels, Don Quixote, The Epic of Gilgamesh, and a lot of stories by Shakespeare. Pretty much any of these could easily be adapted while keeping the soul of the story intact. And I’m positive that there are many more that I can’t recall at the moment.

I respect creativity and innovation, and that’s one of the things I love about videogames; the industry is still pumping out new ideas all the time. However, there’s something to be said about the classic stories. They have been read as long as they have for good reason; they speak to people. They make their readers contemplate their own situation, and, sometimes, re-think their lives. A great piece of literature can literally change your life, however cliché it sounds. I honestly think that the videogame industry is missing a great opportunity by overlooking the classics as a game concept. They have the potential to create a gaming experience that is all too rare; a game that speaks to your soul; that can literally change your life. All I’m trying to say is, “Why not?”